Suspect

Part 1

[18.09.12.9]

— So, what can I tell you... – A man in a white coat passes a small piece of clearly medical handwriting. I can't make it out.

— Get treated. Plenty of water, bed rest. We don't go to school. In a week for an appointment. If the situation does not change, call. Is everything clear?

You shouldn't have expected anything else.

— Yes, fine.

— Okay, then. I'll go, and you rest.

After seeing the doctor to the exit, I returned to my room.

Last night the temperature reached forty degrees. I did not call an ambulance, limiting myself to antipyretics. The doctor came the next morning. By that time I was feeling better, but I'm still far from full recovery.

In fact, even if I didn't get sick, the doctor would still prescribe a sick leave.

You bet. I'm a fucking walking corpse.

If he realizes that my physical exhaustion is caused by mental problems, bed rest alone will not be enough.

I will immediately be registered with a psychiatrist.

Maybe I should agree to that.

But I'd rather wait it out.

By the way, the temperature really turned out to be the best remedy. Even more effective than sleeping pills.

For the first time this month, I slept a full eight hours. And not a single nightmare.

If you do not take into account the considerable temperature and weakness, in general, my well-being has improved by an order of magnitude.

Strangely enough, the lightning really did benefit.

Today is like some kind of holiday. I've already forgotten the last time I had a good night's sleep.

— A cold, huh...

I'll take it into service.

Since I'm feeling better, I should clean up a little.

In my memory, the house is so cluttered with all sorts of trash for the first time.

This is entirely my merit.

In my half-delirious wanderings, I completely forgot about it.

— Okay, let's get started.

The house is quite large. It may take half a day for a complete cleaning.

I have enough imaginary purity, without any perversions.

I'll do with washing dishes and dusting.

I can do it in a couple of hours.

...

...

.....

— Phew... 

I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

Only the hallway remained. After that, the house can be called brand new.

Okay, I'm lying. I did everything bluntly.

But at least the house doesn't look like a drug den anymore. Just a little... sloppy.

Still, I'm not the coolest housewife.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the intercom.

— Who could it be?

I definitely wasn't expecting anyone today.

There aren't even any ideas.

To begin with, let's look through the door peephole.

— Hmm?

Nobody?

— Intercom hooligans?

There is no desire to open the door.

Except that curiosity.

Maybe it's really something important?

On the other hand, there's no one there, is there?

So it's not that important.

— No, no and no.

I'll just open the door.

Nothing terrible will happen.

All fears are groundless.

I'm completely beaten up with these nightmares.

Just open the door.

Open the door.

Open. The door.

Open.

The door.

My hands are shaking.

Don't want to.

It's all just my paranoia. There is nothing terrible behind this door.

It's empty. Or just a sort person.

Yeah.

A short person.

Just open the damn door.

Somehow overcoming myself, I turn the handle.

If these are really hooligans, they have definitely achieved their goal.

I close my eyes, preparing for the worst.

...

...

Nothing happens.

I'm looking around.

There is no one.

Unless there is a small gift box in front of the entrance.

A box?

Did someone plant drugs?

(And why is this the first thing that comes to my mind...?)

Anyway, the fears really turned out to be groundless.

I decide to pick up the object lying on the ground.

— Okay, we should open it.

She was lying inside... a neat wicker basket with fruits and other goodies. It is braided with a bow, to which a note is attached.

"Everything will be fine. Get well."

— This...

Such a beautiful handwriting. Like a calligraphic one.

It would seem that I should be happy. Someone is worried about my health. So?

Not once at all...

This text...

"Get well."

...It scares a lot more than the wish to die in agony.

Does anyone know that I'm sick?

No one could find out about it.

I didn't tell anyone.

It could have come to this at school, yes.

But the lessons are not over yet. No one would have physically had time.

Who else?

A doctor?

What's the reason for him? He just left today.

And no one else knows about it.

Not a single person.

My paranoia.

Means...

It's true?

All this shit... Really?

It would be better if it were a lie.

I don't want to believe it.

Don't want to.

Who did I surrender to...? Nobody needs me. This can't be happening.

But the facts are right in front of you.

Shut up.

I can't do anything about it anyway. I...

There it is.

I'll barricade myself.

I won't be enough for more anyway.

It sounds like a death agony.

With a heavy sigh, I fall to the floor.

Consciously.

This... despair?

And I want to live. Even if my head is empty.

No.

Let the barricade. I have to do something.

...

...

The first thing I do is close all the shutters in the house. Fortunately, they have something like a castle. Sunlight doesn't help me much anyway, so I'll get by.

Then I close the doors. To the maximum that is possible.

After that I stop.

Still, a large part of me does not believe in this absurdity. Therefore, we will do without extraordinary things.

The main thing is that this will limit the stalker's capabilities.

The final touch will be the bit. I leave it at the entrance.

This is the best thing in my arsenal.

I don't think I'll use it for such purposes...

It's just calmer that way.

— ...

That's enough.

I can only wait.

Wait and hope for the best.

Part 2

[19.09.12.9]

Yesterday went surprisingly smoothly. Even if the state of health remain the same, and the nightmares started again, it still could be much worse.

Thinking that everything would end in one day was stupid.

Am I in a hurry?

Not good.

My resources are being depleted.

Even that reserve of patience, which I have always been proud of, began to gradually run out.

In the worst case, I could die. For real.

I can't. Need to wait.

Every few hours I went out on patrol of my own house. I looked into every corner, checked the windows. Of course, I didn't find anything.

It's harder than I thought.

In my free time I meditated. Keeping your eyes open all the time is very tiring and painful.

But otherwise the pain will be transferred to my head.

To survive, you need a clear head. I can't brag about it now, but at least I can't make things worse.

At the same time, I made myself a huge portion of a cocktail. For emergencies.

The bat is at the entrance. If someone tries to come in, I will immediately find out about it.

I'm as ready as I possibly can be.

I don't think I can handle a stalker so skilled in stealth, but...

I can't do nothing.

My heart is pounding like crazy.

I'd be lying if I said I was calm.

To tell the truth, I have never been so tense.

There was no reason to worry.

But now...

I pray that all my suspicions turn out to be groundless.

Even if it's a prank, let them laugh. Just please...

Stop it.

...

No? Fine...

The prayers did not reach the addressee.

The doorbell rang.

— It's time to die, right?

After taking a few deep breaths, I went down to the front door.

The bat is here. Ready at any moment.

If you die, then fully armed. I'm ready... or...

*Ringing*

Damn stalkers don't even let you prepare...

I'm removing the locks.

One.

Second.

Third...

...Gradually, one by one, all twenty-six locks disappeared.

I did it in less than a minute.

I turn the handle.

The door opens slowly, with a creak.

I'm ready to grab the bat at any second.

My hands are shaking.

I forgot something from the strain...

I could just look through the peephole of the door...

I'm an idiot.

Although, it's of no use from this peephole...

— Hey, are you okay? – A weighty male voice.

There were clicks.

I shudder.

What's happened?

Have I fallen into a trance? At moment like this?

When I come to myself, I find a strong, plump, gray-haired man.

He snaps his fingers, a worried look directed at me.

— Eh? Sorry, I was thinking... – I'm regaining control of my own body. Now the voice does not tremble.

— Are you sure? You look pretty pale.

— It's all right. And you...?

— Oh, yes, I completely forgot. Where is it... – The man is going out.

Now, when nothing limits my field of vision (you can't call that person a baby), I notice a car parked right outside the house.

The off flashing light on the roof speaks for itself.

After a little time, he returns with a certificate. Presents.

"Otsuki Shin."

This is an official certificate of a private detective.

And now such a person is interested in me.

To say that I strained means to say nothing.

— Is that enough? – The detective asked.

(Enough for what?)

— So, why do you need me? – Uncomprehending tone.

After all, I really don't understand.

Does he know I'm being followed? Or is he following me? Or...

There are too many options, and you can't be sure of any of them.

— About this... he pulls something out of his bosom again. A photo.

— Do you recognize it?

School uniform, two red ponytails and blue glasses. Intelligent eyes shimmered with shades of light red. I definitely recognize this person.

—  Yes. This is my classmate. Did something happen to her?

Since when are private detectives interested in schoolgirls?

— Can I come in? – the tone of the voice suddenly shifts from relaxed to serious.

What is this sudden offer?

— I wouldn't like to talk about it in the doorway.

— Uh... well, that... slightly...

— Or are you busy right now? If so, I'm sorry that I burdened you with my visit.

— Not... not really...

I have no reason not to let him in... Why am I hesitating?

He won't talk here, so...

— ...All right, come on in.

Still, I don't have the gift of eloquence.

I escort him to the kitchen, and then makes some tea.

It's fatal to me, so I'll make do with water.

— Thank you. Otsuki bowed slightly, then took a sip.

— Pretty tasty. Not bad, boy.

— I'm delighted to hear it... – I didn't let you in for flattery...

— And the house is pretty clean... - *sip*

— I was cleaning up yesterday...

— Hmm? Alone? In such a big house?

— Yes.

Something's not right here.

— And the parents? Really all day at work?

— On vacation. They should be back soon. – I have absolutely no idea how to maintain a dialogue with a questions like these. Nothing but dry unambiguous answers comes to mind.

— And they didn't take you with them, then...

— I refused. I don't like that kind of things.

— And they left a house of this size for one person?

— That's right.

— They seem to trust you a lot.

— I know.

Didn't he come here to discuss the Class Rep? Why am I hearing so many personal questions instead?

— Okay, let's get down to business. Hidemi Nomura. Your classmate.

— Did something happen to her?

— Were you close?

— Em... not really.

— Then we'll do without ceremony. On the morning of the fifteenth of this month, Hidemi Nomura was found dead in her own house.

— ...

... Dead?

— We assume it's murder. To be honest, other options are unlikely... Still, when a person is lying in a pool of his own blood, and there are puncture wounds all over his body... I think we don't have to continue. – After these words, the detective quieted down. He quieted down, as if waiting for my reaction.

Although this did not prevent him from enjoying the already cooled tea.

I sat motionless for a while, unable to digest the information.

The Class Rep is dead. Murdered.

What kind of nonsense is this?

It always seemed to me that death was somewhere out there, far away. Me and my entourage are far from it.

I may have these dreams, but... it's still not the same. Just my problem. This is not a real death.

And murder... and so cruel... This is just too much for me.

Even though we've never been close... Let her annoy me with her clinginess... Sometimes even too much.

I've never understood why there's such a desire to dig me up.

And she treated the others as usual.

Only with me she behaved like a bath leaf.

It was infuriating.

I've always wanted to escape from this thorn.

But I definitely didn't want it to end like this...

And now she's gone.

How do I feel when I found out about it?

Bitterness of loss?

No.

Sadness?

Maybe a little.

Anger?

Not a bit.

Relief was the answer.

What kind of bastard answer is that?

Is it really easier for me that my friends are being killed?

Lousy.

There was self-loathing.

...

...

... No.

It doesn't matter.

I didn't want her dead anyway. I would have agreed to all the idiotic suggestions if it had brought her back to life.

Only now am I beginning to understand...

The headman wanted to be closer to me.

I just ignored it.

However, she also ignored my attempts to distance herself.

I said something nasty again, didn't I?

It's unusual to think about something ephemeral for so long.

I have always tried to avoid such topics.

Such thoughts led only to reflection.

Like now.

I already have a fever, and I'm only making it worse.

Enough of this.

Now there are much more serious problems.

— And you... you suspect... me? – My voice is much quieter than usual. He is bound by fear.

Otsuki found it all funny and grinned.

— What? Of course not, what are you talking about? But...

— But?

— That's what I think. After I talked to you, I immediately understood everything. You didn't kill anybody. Honestly, as soon as I saw you, I immediately removed you from the list. You're a little weak for this. But...

— ...

Another "but"?

— You were not mistaken. Your name is on the list of suspects. After all, the last person Miss Hidemi spoke to was you.

— ...

... What?

This can't be happening... The last time I spoke to her was more than a week ago.

She couldn't stay silent all week and not cross paths with anyone...

Well, in theory, yes, but in practice... Too implausible.

— Of course, this is not enough to draw conclusions, but...

"But" again.

— In any case, I think that your name on this list is just a formality for additional versions. Just don't do anything strange, and suspicions will go away automatically. Unless of course... The detective smiled. – Unless of course it really wasn't you.

This gray-haired bastard knows how to escalate the situation.

— Well, since I'm here and you're under suspicion... Where were you at the time of the murder?

... Like hell this freak doesn't think I'm guilty. He put noodles on my ears to make me relax.

Unfortunately for you, I'm not so easy to take.

Otsuki got up and started pacing around the room.

— I've been thinking about it for a long time... Why close the shutters in the house?

— It rained recently. Because of him, I came down with a fever, so I didn't have time to open it.

— That's right. It really was raining.

...

— There is a bat at the entrance. Decoration?

— The bat is incapable of inflicting stab wounds. I'm into baseball.

— Hmm? You don't look like a sports fan.

— I'm just a beginner.

— That's how.

When did our dialogue turn into a fight?

So far, I have successfully parried his attacks. But who knows what Otsuki has in store?

— So. Where were you on the night of the 14th to the 15th, Mr. classmate of Hidemi Nomura?

His style of speech suddenly changed from informal to formal.

— At home. Slept. Like all normal people.

— Can anyone confirm this?

— No.

— That's how it is!

— ...

I have nothing to say.

The cop sat back down.

— See? You're very lucky that it was me who came to you, and not some blockhead who wants to close the case as soon as possible, get a bonus and score. So don't look at me like that.

— ...Is the absence of an alibi enough to find a person guilty?

— Enough to get under investigation.

— ...

— Of course, until there is irrefutable evidence, nothing will happen to you. But being under investigation is quite stressful, you know.

— And I'm not already?

— So far only as a possible, if you want, indirect, witness. I'm investigating this case, so you're a long way from a real suspect. That's why you lucky, I told you. - Otsuki took another sip from his cup. Is there really anything left there?

He speaks quite convincingly. Maybe by calling him an asshole I jumped to conclusions?

I don't know.

Now I am not able to process the information adequately.

The only thing that saves me is that I'm not very sociable in general.

If I were different, I might have already gone far and for a long time.

— Now I'm turning to you as an indirect witness. Of course, I expect cooperation, but I won't force it.

— ...

— Do you have something to tell? Maybe you saw something? Maybe you've heard? Any information, even the most insignificant, will be useful.

— Let me think...

I said it as if I agreed to cooperate.

In fact, all my thoughts are occupied with other things.

I still don't have any confidence that he can be trusted.

He speaks well, but something cooler is needed against pathological paranoia.

I toss around for a minute, unable to choose.

...

I...

...Cleared my throat and began the story.

Part 3

— ...That is all.

— Thank you for your cooperation. Here you go, here's my card. If you want to share something else, so that you always know how to contact me.

— Yeah...

It certainly has all the necessary information, but...

The design is slightly alarming.

There are some scribbles here. It looks like something like stick men.

And on the reverse side...

Inscription.

"Don't let me see you ever again nasty Otsuki Shin."

— ...

This... this is...

(What the hell?)

I do not understand…

It's written right where the title should be.

Some kind of reference?

— Is something wrong?

— Uh... no. That's such a beautiful card. I wish I had the same ones when I grow up.

— Well, yes, well, yes.  Otsuki smiles softly. — The granddaughter tried.

— T-that's it...

Yeah... This old man really is... the old man.

Now I'm even a little ashamed that I thought badly of him.

— By the way, each business card costs 500 yen. Pay up.

— I'll manage! Keep it! – I'm urgently handing the business card back.

What kind of idiot came up with the idea of paying 500 yen for business cards? It's just a piece of cardboard, isn't it?

— But I also made a discount in honor of our cooperation... Okay, convinced. Take it for free.

— ...

Make up your mind already...

— Damn, and why no one wants to appreciate the creativity of my grandchildren...

My cheek twitched nervously.

Some strange manifestation of love, selling business cards with scribbles.

— I've been sitting too long. Let's go.

The detective sighed heavily, then got up and headed for the exit.

I'm seeing him off.

Already on the porch, he turned around and bowed slightly. And then he uttered this phrase:

— I don't think the murders will stop. Soon the situation may escalate. Be careful, boy. And try to live longer, okay? Although, whether you believe me or not is up to you.

— Of course... thanks for the advice.

Otsuki's figure gradually moved away, getting into the car, he turned on the flashing light and drove off.

After a while, the courtyard was completely empty.

I was alone on the porch, still digesting what had happened.

And so the day finally ended. In any case, nothing special happened anymore.

Talking to Otsuki is definitely exhausting.

Even a five-minute dialogue with this old man squeezes out as much energy as a few hours with any other.

Moreover, in everyday life he seems to be a rather sedate person.

Is it really possible to change so much because of work?

Although, what am I talking about? The best example of such a phenomenon has just been here.

My preparation only made things worse.

Closed shutters and a bat near the entrance... Detectives even cling to this...

How could you have timed it like that?

I don't understand.

Regarding the case...

I didn't tell him anything important.

Although officially I am now involved in the case, since I agreed to speak, in fact everything is different.

On the other hand... what I didn't mention won't help matters much anyway.

Arriving here, the detective just wasted his time. Since he gave me his business card, it means that he still hopes that I will tell something more.

It's a pity to upset him... But I won't say anything more. Nothing.

The parents will be back the day after tomorrow.

I'm not sure if it will save me, but I know one thing for sure.

I will feel at least a little, but calmer.

At least, I hope so.

One day left.

I can handle it.

There is no other way.